


Still Life

by Jassanja



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Canon Gay Character, Canonical Gay Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-08
Updated: 2010-03-08
Packaged: 2017-10-07 19:33:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/68454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jassanja/pseuds/Jassanja
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When a bed stops being a bed pretending to be a bed</p>
            </blockquote>





	Still Life

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by some of the furniture from Ben's place in Season 2 showing up again in Season 4 &amp; 5

Ben felt strange as he opened the door to the apartment.

It was the first time in almost a year that he was here

In the end the bitchy law professor did stay for ten rather than the planned six months.. Not that there had been a problem to that. After they had worked out the first rough spots, Ben hadn't doubted the decision to move in with Michael

Now the bitch was gone, and he had his space back.  
Just that it didn't quite feel like his.  
The place was too impersonal, too spotless, without any of his stuff out, no books stacked on the floor, no papers to grade on the coffee table

Ben sank into his leather chair, the one he used to write in, the one he finished his first novel in.  
The coffee table in front of it was empty. Well, almost. There was a cardboard box, filled with all the Buddha figurines his friends and colleagues had given him over the years.

The professor had left a note on the box, explaining that she had to pack them away, because as a good catholic she had felt uncomfortable surrounded by them.

Ben left them in the box, sure that it would be a waste of time to put them back in place, even through he could still remember where each one of them belonged.

The place also didn't smell like Ben remembered.  
The scent in the air was flowery rather than heavy from the incense Ben had used to burn down while meditating.  
He hadn't done that in a long time either, lacking the necessary peace and quiet with Hunter and Michael around.  
But then spending time with them had brought another kind of inner balance.  
Ben got up from the chair, as he contemplated this, sure after all that he had no regret about deciding against going to Tibet. He had feared it would come up, now while stepping back in this part of his old life.

Ben went across the room and opened the door to the bedroom.  
Of course it too lacked personal touch, in it's state between habitants.

Again, no books stacked all over the place, only ordered by their relevance to his next lecture.

Ben stepped to the bed, trailing his fingers over the ornamentation of the headboard.  
He had to admit to himself, that he had missed the bed.

He sank down on it slowly and stretched out, relishing the feeling of the firm mattress. He had remembered it right, it was firmer than the bed he now shared with Michael.  
And there were all the memories that were tied to this bed.

He had bought it with his first advance salary once he'd taken the position as a professor at Carnegie Mellon, when he first got to Pittsburgh

It had been in this bed that he had tossed and turned for long hours the night before his first lecture as a Professor.

Ben smiled to himself remembering this.

He also fucked quite a number of guys in this bed, always preferring a bed to brick wall in an ally.  
For a short moment he also wondered about the bitchy law professor. Their mutual acquaintance surely must have told her that he was gay.   
Had that thrown her? Aroused her? Had she, as the good catholic that she had claimed to be, ever brought a guy home and fucked in this bed?

Letting his mind drift back to his own experiences, Ben of course also came to remember the first time he had brought Paul home.

It had been after their second date. Sloppy kisses, clumsy fumbling and much laughter had been the only thing that had happened that night, both of them drunk on new love and cheap wine.  
… and then there was the morning after, waking up in various states of undress, in each others arms, feeling all safe and secure, the perfect moment to whisper their love to each other for the first time.

It had been this bed as well, that they later shared, when they decided that Paul should move out with his three room-mates and in with Ben.

Thinking back, Ben was even pretty sure that it must have had been in this bed as well, when Paul infected him.  
Of course it was close to impossible to point out the exact moment, but the events that led up to it, had started here.

It had been a pretty wild night an all accounts, when, during a especially passionate make out session, they found out that what the believed to be a full package of condoms was actually empty.  
They had tried at first to keep careful, to try to finish each other off in a save way, but the more they tried the bigger grew the need to fuck, to take and be taken...until they where beyond the point of caring, where beyond thinking straight, beyond the raw need to fuck, to let this discovery stop them….and after that one night, they never looked back, never returned to playing safe.

 

It sure had been here in bed that Ben had first heard of the possibility of infection.

He could remember the gold of the autumn sun shining warmly in the room, as a shaken Paul had woken him from a nap. Telling him that he had just gotten a call from a fuck buddy, back from his junior year in collage, telling that he had tested positive, and that Paul better get a test himself.

A few hours later they had been back in bed together, holding each other, trying to tell themselves that everything was all right, that nothing had happened, that it was just a scare.

Five nights later they clung to each other again, this time knowing that it was not a scare, that nothing was all right, that everything had changed.

The memory alone had Ben's eyes burning and his throat going dry.

That had probably been the worst night of his life.  
There couldn't have been a minute when neither of them had been in panic, predicting doom and gloom and death, each trying to calm the other down, telling encouraging lies of how nothing would change as long as they had each other for support, just to change roles moments later...

Despite all those reassurances of support to each other, their nights in bed changed over the next weeks and months.   
Where once they had believed that their new shared status would bring them closer together they had to find out that in reality it drove them apart, and within six months Paul had decided to move out. He had been unable to free himself of painting black pictures.

 

For years to come the company in bed was few and far in-between, while Ben found new hope in new goals, reclaimed spirituality again and put all he had forward to teach, to put a lasting impression into the minds of his students.  
Until he had decided to bring home that guy from that comic book store.

 

Now Ben could laugh at himself, remembering, that after telling Michael that he was positive, he had spent the first night in years wide awake, tossing and turning.

He had been pretty sure that he had just lost his chances with Michael

Just to be proven right less than a week later.  
Blaming himself for his stupidity to leave the condoms in the bathroom, nicely placed between all his medication…rather than in the bedside table, where they would have been closer at hand and further away from any reminder of the worst case.

Ben had slept that night, but not before he cried his eyes raw with bitter tears, and just to be woken by nightmares again and again.

Ben took a few deep breaths, tried to forget the horror of that night. Reminding himself that it had turned out well in the end.  
It had taken a while, but Michael had come back, and convinced Ben that things would be different, and that they did belong together.

They had first made love in this bed too. No reason to forget that, even if not all had been smooth sailing afterwards.  
There was one more bad, very bad memory…

The night of his birthday, the night he had embarrassed Michael and himself in front of everybody by acting out.  
Not that it was an excuse, but he had been so scared that night.  
Scared that just as he had found someone special again, he was meeting his doom and gloom, just as Paul had predicted.

He had kicked Michael out with his guests, his friends, realizing too late that it meant that he had to spend the night alone, when all he had wanted, hell, all he had needed was to hold Michael tight, to have Michael tell him how everything was going to be fine, and how they would get through this, how it was just a scare. All those words that had already proven to be lies so long ago, but that still held so much power in times of despair.

Three nights….  
Three horrible, long nights of being scared, and alone, and in fear of having fucked it up, of losing Michael as well as his health and life.

Sighing Ben got up.   
He would have to talk to Michael, but he was sure it wouldn't take a fight to get him to agree to move Ben's bed into their bedroom.   
And the sofa too. That old yellow and orange thing Emmett had once gotten forth or even fifth hand was a pain in and to the ass, so time to get rid of it as well. Perhaps they could even give the walls that long over-due new coat of paint.

It was getting late, he needed to leave his apartment and go home.

**Author's Note:**

> Big thanks to Bernie for reading this in the first place (totally not his fandom), pointing out a recurring problem, and telling me that the story was fine enough


End file.
